It’s been one month since we welcomed the newest member of our family, our sweet baby boy.
One month! My how time flies!
So much has happened in this month. Not only did we celebrate Baby Boy’s birth, but we celebrated our oldest son’s seventh birthday, celebrated my husband as Teacher of the Year from his school, and lost a dear friend to cancer. We also saw our baby son’s first smiles, first bath, and first moments with his older brothers. Nothing could be more precious.
Like I said, so much has happened.
Since I’ve been away from the blog for the past month, I hope you’ve been enjoying the guest posts. I have to thank Jessica Patch, Beth Vogt, Wendy Miller, Amy Simpson, Melissa Tagg, Lindsay Harrel, Katie Ganshert, and Olivia Newport for their brilliance in guest posting while I was on “maternity leave.” I appreciate you ladies more than you know!
So let me tell you a little story about how we welcomed our son into the world. It’s a good one.
I went to the doctor the day before my due date (which was April 3) still showing no signs of labor. I was frustrated, of course, because I was too close to my due date to be showing no signs. After all, with both of my previous pregnancies, I was dialated and effaced by 39 weeks.
Going on my previous experiences, I just couldn’t understand why I wasn’t ready to give birth so close to my due date. After all, both of my other boys were born at 39 weeks, induced because of my gestational diabetes.
So after seeing my doctor that day, he decided that I could be induced on Friday, April 5, even though I was showing no signs. After all, he was taking pity on a woman who was at the end of her rope pregnancy-wise.
Here’s the kicker, though– my doctor wouldn’t be there to induce me. That week was Spring Break around here and he was going on vacation, leaving me to be induced by the doctor on call. My alternative was to wait an additional week before an induction, so I was fine with the doc-on-call. I’d seen him before and had no reason to doubt anything would go wrong. And to be honest, I just wanted to hold my son. ASAP.
Fast-forward to that Friday. We show up at the hospital at 5:30 am. I’m expecting the induction to go just like the previous 2. First a pill, lots of walking the halls, then when the contractions really start to kick in, the Pitocin would be introduced. By then I was hoping to have my epidural.
When the nurse checked me that morning, I was dialated zero. ZERO. Still no signs that our little boy wanted to be born. So she hooked me straight up to the Pitocin which not only kicked in contractions right away, but I was tied to the bed because I had to be on monitors because of the Pitocin. So no walking.
**Side note– I had the greatest nurses ever, praise God.**
Immediately I knew something was…different. I had this feeling… I told my husband, “This isn’t going to work. Something isn’t right here.” The contractions didn’t hurt.
Now let me just share with you that in my previous 2 inductions, Pitocin was known as “the devil’s juice” because it made my contractions nearly unbearable. The epidural was my saving grace.
I expected that this time. I waited for it to happen. But while the contractions finally built up to being about 2 minutes apart, they didn’t hurt. They were uncomfortable at most. And with each contraction, I felt the baby moving up into my rib cage. This is the opposite of what should be happening, yeah?
So I told the nurse. She checked me. Six hours on Pitocin and still no dialation. She said she would contact the doctor. First she cranked up my Pitocin to the max amount.
Keep in mind that I had been at the hospital six hours and still hadn’t seen the doctor on call. I was feeling pretty rattled at this point, wishing my doctor was around, and wondering if the baby would ever be born.
Two more hours go by. The contractions STOP. No joke. Eight hours on Pitocin and my body was overloaded. The contractions simply stopped.
At this point the nurse tells me that I have two options– one, go home. They’ll label it a “failed induction,” I’d see my doctor again the following week and then re-try the induction at his discretion. Option two– I could stay at the hospital overnight, they’d give me the medication to soften the cervix, and then start the induction over again on Pitocin in the morning.
At this point it’s 2 pm and I’m on the road to Freak-Out Town. Go home? Stay overnight to start again in the morning? Neither of those options was acceptable to me. I was supposed to be holding a baby in my arms already.
Since I was feeling especially frustrated and really tired, I decided that I wanted to go home. I had pretty much had it. Plus, I was starving.
My awesome nurse brought me some crackers and peanut butter and encouraged me to eat, feel better, take a few minutes to think it over, and hopefully decide to stay.
I ate the crackers. I still wanted to go home.
My nurse (seriously, she was fantastic) insisted that I see the doc on call before I went home. She called him and he came right over.
He checked me and said, “That’s weird.”
Yeah, words you don’t want to hear from a doctor. He looks at the nurse and asks for the ultrasound machine.
“I don’t feel a head,” he said.
Immediately I felt better. Know why? Because I knew it. I knew that our little stinker wasn’t in the right position. Why else would I be feeling him move up rather than down?
So the doc does an ultrasound and sure enough, Little Man has his head firmly wedged in my ribcage (which I could totally feel). He is what the doc calls “weirdly transverse” and not at all in the position to be born.
“C-section time!” Doc says.
Woo-hoo! I celebrate. Not because I want to have a c-section, but because I have an answer as to why why why why why this little boy wasn’t ready to be born.
Enter the anesthesiologist to prep me for surgery. “I ate crackers,” I say. He hangs his head. “Six hour wait time,” he says.
7 pm nursing shift change. Enter my angel, my friend Camille whom I have known for a few years, a nurse in L&D at the hospital. She’s going to be my nurse for the night. Praise the Lord!
So finally, just before 8 pm, I’m wheeled into the operating room.
I didn’t handle the c-section so well. My blood pressure bottomed out and for the entire length of the procedure I felt like I was going to lose consciousness. I never did and I was assured that I was okay, but it totally felt like an out-of-body experience to me.
“Hang on,” says the doc. “I can’t get a grip on him. He doesn’t want to come out.”
Clearly our youngest son likes to do things his way– including his birth. He simply did not want to be born!
Anywho, long story short, our son entered the world at 8:02 pm that night.
Here we are! That’s my hubby holding the baby.
Not at all the way I’d planned or the way I thought it would go, but the way God knew all along. I wouldn’t have chosen a c-section myself, but He had other plans.
When I finally saw my regular doctor the next week and told him this whole story he responded with, “No way. That is so weird!” He also told me that he was positive that every time he checked he felt our baby as head down. I’ll cut the doc some slack since his right hand was broken and in a cast and he had to feel with his left. Perhaps a bottom feels like a head when you’re using a different hand than normal.
So Little Man is here, he’s safe and healthy and perfect, and we have a good story to tell about his birth. “Weirdly transverse” has become a regular part of my vocabulary now.
Once again I’d like to say that I am sincerely grateful to the nursing staff at the hospital. Every single one of them was a huge blessing to me. Thanks, ladies!
Whew! What a month we’ve had!
Share with me: What’s the big news in your life in the last month or so?